“It really does seem to be with a ray of light,” Gray said.
“Take Ginger Holloway,” Mabel said, nodding thoughtfully.
“What happened with Ginger Holloway?” Dan asked, without asking who that had been.
“Well, she was waiting. A horrible domestic dispute! Her son-in-law killed her daughter in a fight over a TV remote control. Terrible. Though, rumor is such a thing has happened several times. Anyway, once the jury put him away, Ginger was anxious to go. Her son received custody of the kids and all was... I guess as fixed as it could be,” Mabel said. “I don’t suppose you can ever really fix anything like that, but once he went to prison, well, all Ginger wanted was to see her daughter.”
“She was interred at Lafayette Cemetery, too,” Gray offered.
“And we saw her leave. It was beautiful,” Mabel said. “I could almost believe I saw a hand reaching out...her daughter’s hand.”
“But,” Gray said softly, “we see those who were injured in life, or who died in battle or for justice...”
“Or the American way!” Mabel said.
“But those who were wicked in life, who killed others or caused great harm or suffering...well, we seldom see them.”
“And when we do, they don’t last long,” Mabel said.
“They leave in darkness,” Gray said.
“I see,” Dan said. He didn’t really see anything at all, but then the ghosts didn’t have real answers to whatever came next themselves, so there wasn’t much that he could see. And he was worried suddenly, anxious he’d left Katie alone.
“So, back to the woman who was killed,” Dan said.
“Right. I saw her on Bourbon Street.”
Dan hid his disappointment. They’d known she’d been running around the French Quarter.
Maybe the ghost of Gray Simmons felt his disappointment.
“Not alone!” Gray said. “I saw her with a man.”
“And it was the man in the sketches, those police renditions or whatever,” Mabel said.
“Two of the mounted police working at night on Bourbon Street had the pictures out on their phones, showing them to each other,” Gray explained.
“So the woman who was killed was with the guy in the sketches!” Mabel said.
“Yes,” Dan agreed. He could tell they understood this wasn’t news to him.
“Well, he works on Bourbon Street,” Gray Simmons said. “He doesn’t look like the sketch, not really. He looks younger. I think he’s taken good care of himself.”
“Maybe he had a facial,” Mabel said.
“Or a nose job,” Gray suggested.
“Okay, works on Bourbon Street where?” Dan asked. Now he was interested.
Gray sighed.
“That I don’t know. Somewhere between Conti and here. And I’m sorry, I think closer to the Canal side, but I can’t be positive. You see, I saw them before I saw the sketches, so I wasn’t paying enough attention.”
“How do you know he works here?”
“He told her he was going in and she needed to keep a low profile, because all in all, the French Quarter was a small community. And she just said ‘What the hell do you think a dumb kid might remember?’ Anyway, he told her to go away, and he had to hurry. He didn’t want to be late for a shift until he was ready to quit. He was wearing one of those white jackets. You know the kind that waiters wear? That should help...a lot of the places along here are so casual. I think he’s working at one of the more high-end restaurants.”
Dan leaned back. That would help.
That would definitely, beyond a doubt, help them in a search.
“Thank you,” he told them both. “Sincerely, thank you.”
“We’re here to help. I mean, I think...we’re really here to help,” Mabel said, shrugging with a grin. She grew serious. “Get these people, Dan. Please get them.”
“I promise you I will do everything in my power,” he vowed. He stood. “I’d better go. I don’t want to leave Katie alone.”
“What? She’s alone?” Gray demanded.
“Alone, with half the city. But I’m on my way back to her right now.”
“You keep her safe, young man! That is one fine young lady,” Gray said. He looked at Mabel then. “And she lost people, people dearest to her in the world. Right this the best you can, young man. But you get back to her now.”
“I’m on my way!” he said.
Leaving the ghosts, Dan headed back toward Decatur. As he left, he called Axel.
It was going to be easier to explain his information to Axel than to Ryder.
“We need to go about a quiet search,” Axel said. “If Neil realizes we’re on to him, he’ll disappear before we can get to him.”
“Maybe we can start at opposite ends of the street and work toward each other. Bring Adam and Ryder in on it,” Dan suggested.
“That’s a plan,” Axel agreed. “And I may bring in one more agent, new fellow from Krewe headquarters who has been helping out on this here. He’s smart as a whip—”
“And speaks to the dead,” Dan said.
“Yeah.”
“All right. Katie will want to keep the carriage out until early evening—”
“That’s fine. Things don’t move here until late. If this guy is still around, the fine-dining places will be getting going after six.”
“Meet up then,” Dan said.
He ended the call. But then he called Axel back.
“What else?” Axel asked.
“Can you get Angela to do a deep dig on someone for me?” he asked.
“Who?”
“A casting agent, the one who let us know that both Jennie and Neil had been extras in the movie. Mrs. Carly Britton. Oh, yes, and check on her husband, too. She acted all terrified when she found out, but...”
“But?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Okay. I’ll call it in right now. If anyone can find out anything, it’s Angela.”
“Thank you.”
He was almost back to the curb in front of Jackson Square.
Katie’s carriage was just pulling out again.
He ran hard. She turned to see him, smiled and waited.
He leaped up on the carriage to join her.
She introduced him to her group, this time six people from a medical convention.
She raised a brow to him in question, even as she started a history lesson for the group.
He leaned close and whispered to her.
“Fine dining tonight, my love.”
And he realized that though he had spoken lightly, he meant that last part.
She’d come to mean so very much to him.
Was it something like love?
He wanted to find out. But first, he had to stop the Axeman’s Protégé. Had to protect Katie.
That was the only way he would ever really get to know.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Wow!”
“Well,” Katie said lightly, “you said fine dining. I thought maybe I should dress the part?”
“Wow,” Dan repeated.
She smiled. She’d put on a simple, knee-length black dress, but the way it draped always made her feel confident. It was nice to feel admired. And surprising, but then everything about her relationship with him was surprising. She’d never have imagined in a thousand years she would have made a move on him...and realize that she admired him, and maybe they were both haunted by the past, along with souls from the past.
She’d known him only a few days. Yet he was suddenly the most important person in her life.
“You dress up well yourself,” she told him.
“Do I? Thanks!”
He was wearing a tailored shirt but open at the throat, a vest, and a casual jacket over dark trousers. He looked as if he m
ight have stepped from the pages of GQ.
“Anyway, I think they’ll let us in wherever we go. And I know where we should start,” Dan said.
“And where is that?” Katie asked him.
“A place called Duffy’s Den. It opened recently and supposedly has NOLA power money behind it from famous restaurant owners who have been working in finer establishments for years.”
“And why Duffy’s Den?”
“It’s new. They had to do a lot of hiring,” he told her. “Also, Angela gave me a list of places where the Rodenberry couple had eaten recently. They went to Duffy’s Den two nights before they were killed.”
“What do we do if we see him?” Katie asked.
“Both Axel and Ryder will be close by, somewhere on Bourbon Street. One of them will make the arrest. Or if worse comes to worst, I’ll hold him until one of them can get there.” He hesitated and shrugged. “I can stop someone, but I’m a consultant, and I don’t really have the authority to arrest anyone.”
“Ah.”
“So...shall we?”
He offered his arm to her.
She smiled and accepted. As they exited the house, Jerry, Ben and Mitch made an appearance on the porch, wagging their tails madly.
“I think Monty went out with a carriage tonight,” Katie told Dan. “I keep food here for them. Let me feed them just in case. Everyone seems to be distracted lately.”
“Monty loves his dogs.”
“Yes, I know. But it won’t hurt them to eat twice if he did feed them.”
She headed back into the kitchen, finding the dog bowls she kept for special treats or those times when Monty did ask her to feed them. She filled her bowls with dry dog food and added a small tin of special wet food to each and started to balance them on her arm to bring out, but Dan was there. He took two of the bowls from her and carried them out.
She didn’t think Monty had fed the dogs—they headed right for the food.
“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “I’m happy. We can leave now.”
Dan drove, finding parking on the street about three blocks from the restaurant.
She hadn’t even known it had opened, and she thought that a bit remiss on her part. But apparently it had been open less than a week.
“Lettie and Randolph Rodenberry must have come for opening night,” Dan said.
“Maybe. I’m a guide here. I should have known about this place,” Katie said. That didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things and certainly not tonight. She hesitated. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Hopefully, we’ll lead normal lives again and...” Now he hesitated.
“What?”
“I’m not sure what normal is anymore. I spent part of the day conversing with dead people.”
“It’s a new normal,” she told him.
They reached Bourbon and turned toward Esplanade to reach the restaurant. The streets weren’t overly busy, but it was Bourbon Street. And the night life was beginning. They passed a neon sign advertising the best strip club in the city. It was next to a casual pizza joint.
Not far down the street, the French Quarter’s busiest karaoke bar was rocking.
They reached Duffy’s Den. There was a sign in cursive on the arch over the doorway noting the restaurant’s name. Dan opened the door for Katie. She thanked him and stepped in.
The place was beautiful. The hostess stand—mahogany and covered with a red velvet runner—fronted a room full of tables that were set to look like they were in the middle of conversation pits. The seating was all black velvet booths that curved around the tables. Some were large; some were smaller, more intimate.
She quickly discovered Dan had made a reservation as they were greeted by a pretty young blonde in a form-fitting white velvet dress.
They were led to one of the intimate booths. A sommelier arrived at their table with the wine list. Dan glanced at her, and she knew he didn’t want wine but thought maybe they should order some for appearances.
He asked the sommelier for a recommendation. Dan, smiling, accepted his suggestion for a moderately priced bottle of red after consulting with Katie.
She didn’t want wine, either; she wanted to watch. But she smiled and agreed that the body and essence sounded fine.
Their server appeared next. It wasn’t Neil Browne; it was an older man, impeccable in his white jacket, pleasant in his manner.
But even as he described the various specials, Katie tensed.
She wasn’t sure...but there was a waiter back toward the door, speaking with a group of five who were seated at one of the larger pits, and he looked familiar. If it was Neil Browne, he’d changed a lot...but he used prosthetics. No one knew what was real about him and what was not. He was a chameleon.
She fumbled to grab Dan’s arm as he politely listened to their server.
“Excuse me,” she said to the waiter. “Dan!”
She pointed.
But as she did, the man turned to look at her, almost as if he had sensed her watching him.
He dropped his tray on the table, along with the five drinks on it. The group cried out in dismay, jumping up, trying to avoid the spill of beverages, some milky, some clear, all sliding and sluicing across the table and threatening their clothing.
The man bolted out the door. Dan proved his agility, leaping over their table to tear after him with a startling speed. He yelled over his shoulder to her, “Call Axel!”
But near the door, he found himself blocked, colliding with the disgruntled customers in the way of the exit, who were still trying to sop up the liquids staining their clothing, complaining loudly and vociferously. To complicate matters, the elegant young hostess left her stand...and blocked the exit as well as she tried to calm the patrons despite her own confusion.
Dan made his way through. Katie followed, more slowly slipping through the crowd now at the door. She dialed the phone and listened to it ring as she excused herself, pushing through.
A bizarre thought occurred to her.
Luckily, the wine hadn’t arrived. They weren’t running out on a check.
Axel answered his phone, and Katie tried not to stammer. “He was here, saw me looking at him, and took off. Here at Duffy’s Den. Dan is already in pursuit. He bolted out onto Bourbon Street.”
“I’m two blocks away. I’ll send out the info. We’ll send out the troops. What was he wearing?”
“A white waiter’s jacket, but I imagine he’s shed it by now,” Katie said.
“You’re probably right. I’ll use the sketches,” Axel said. “Stay where you are, Katie, in the middle of lots of people.”
“Um...”
She was already outside the restaurant. She doubted she’d be welcomed back in. But she was on Bourbon in front of the restaurant, and there were people milling everywhere. Many were laughing, walking arm in arm and swaying arm in arm, in some cases.
“Right!” she told Axel.
She didn’t want the agent worrying about her, not when he needed to get everyone finding the man she knew as Neil Browne.
She ended the call. She wondered if she should call Ryder, too, but Dan had told her both Axel and Ryder would be on the street peeking into different establishments. She was sure they had a communication protocol established.
She looked down the street, watching a group of thirtysomethings piling into the popular karaoke establishment.
Others were ambling into and out of bars and clubs.
Maybe she should wander, not far, just a block or two, peek into bars and anywhere Neil Browne might have fled for cover. But he was probably off of Bourbon Street already.
Or was he?
What better place could one find to join in with a crowd and blend into a group?
A large, popular bar with nightly live music was a stone’s throw away.
; Katie headed in that direction.
* * *
Neil Browne had disappeared into thin air before Dan had reached the street.
That wasn’t possible, so he had ducked in somewhere.
He headed down the street where one bar, despite the killer’s copycat Axeman letter, was playing rock music. An AC/DC number was blaring out the doors with such energy they seemed to shiver.
People were filing in. Some to dance, some for the advertised cheap drinks.
He entered. The place was crowded. Tables were spilling over, the floor in front of the cover band was filled to the brim with gyrating singles and couples, and it was about three deep at the bar.
He searched through the crowd, glad of his height. He could see over most people. He reminded himself that according to Katie, the man was about five-eleven or six feet. He looked for the white jacket but instantly knew the first thing the man would have done would have been to toss the waiter’s garb he’d been wearing.
Process of elimination. He glanced over singles, couples and groups and then moved toward the bar.
The Aerosmith number segued into a tune from Metallica.
Making his way to the bar wasn’t easy. He eased through to the far end and there, head ducked low, was Neil Browne. He edged his eyes up carefully and saw Dan, now trying to make his way down the bar.
The man leaped up and headed for the kitchen.
It was then that Dan saw Katie. She had come in. She apparently knew people in the bar; they were calling out to her, and she was waving and smiling but moving.
Toward the kitchen. Katie must have also caught sight of Browne. He couldn’t see exactly where the man had gone.
“Excuse me, excuse me...excuse me,” he said, trying to press through the crowd.
“Hey, buddy, wait your turn!” one man shouted at him.
He was desperate. “FBI!” he shouted with authority. Well, he was working for the FBI.
And it looked like Katie and a killer were heading for the same place. He had to get to her.
Why hadn’t she stayed in the restaurant?
Because, he knew, whoever else might be involved in this whole thing, she was after the man who had killed her parents.
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